An Unexpected Saviour
by Random Ravenclaw91
Summary: Ugh, Theodore Nott? As if spending seven years at Hogwarts with him wasn't bad enough, now they have to put me in a hospital bed right next to his? Because that's really going to be good for me after trying to off myself. Yeah, right. TheoBlaise.


He was there when I arrived. I shouldn't have remembered him, and I especially shouldn't have cared. After all, nothing about Theodore Nott was memorable. When we were at Hogwarts together, I had tried not to pay attention to him. He was always the outsider of Slytherin. He spoke to no one; it was as if he were too good for everyone.

For most people I felt indifference, but I disliked Nott. Though I wasn't close to anyone at Hogwarts either, at least I knew how to interact with others. He, however, was just all-around hopeless. There was something that grated on my nerves about him — the way he spoke like he didn't care, or how he never tried to be friends with anyone, or the way he seemed to fade into the background. Even how I could never forget that he was there, although no one else seemed to notice him, really pissed me off.

When his grey-green eyes stared up at me from his hospital bed, I instantly knew who he was. He looked more different, though, than he had just one year ago when we'd left Hogwarts during the Final Battle.

His hair had always been such a plain shade of brown, but it looked even duller now, and was tied back because of how long it has grown. He seemed far too thin, as though he were very weak. While his appearance gave every impression of being close to death, his eyes looked just as they had at Hogwarts. I never would have admitted it, but they had always held an incredible amount of intelligence.

The Trainee Healer put her hands on my back as if to steady me. "You can lie down here," she offered, her voice soft and serious. I hated that tone: it made me think that she expected me to die any second. My health was perfectly fine, even if I were in St. Mungo's.

I stared at the bed I was assigned, and had to hold back a groan. Of course, they _would_ put me next to Nott.

But I obediently laid down, grinning up at the fake Healer. "Thanks so much," I said smoothly, pleased to see her blush. In a hospital I was by far the best-looking. I tried desperately to hold the fake smile until she left. I thought that if I could act normal, they would let me out sooner.

I looked over at Nott again, and he stared steadily back at me. "What the hell do you want?" I snapped.

A half-smile came over his face. "I just wanted to make sure you were the same as I remembered."

"Well, Nott, I am. But don't act like we're some long-lost friends or something."

"I'm well aware that you always hated me, Blaise."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"Oh, the usual," he answered, his voice sounding natural. "You know, barely escaping death and therefore causing myself severe internal trauma. You?"

He said it in such a casual way, I didn't know whether or not he was joking.

"An old girlfriend decided to hex me," I said, matching his tone.

"You're lying," he stated.

"So are you," I challenged.

---

"I heard today that you and Theodore over there were in the same class together at Hogwarts," a different but equally cheerful Trainee told me the next day, messing with my bedding in a very annoying way.

I grinned at her, laughing a little for good measure. "Yes, and we were great friends, weren't we, _Theodore?_" I threw out lightly, mocking his name.

He raised one eyebrow, and then said dryly, "The very best."

The Trainee's smile faded the smallest amount as she stared from me to Nott a couple times, probably trying to make up her mind whether or not we were being sarcastic. Apparently she came to the wrong conclusion, because the smile appeared again.

"Well, if you two want to go for a walk or anything of the sort, feel free. Mr Nott, I'll be more than happy to bring you a Levitated Chair if you decide to go… You two call if you need anything at all." With the same carefree smile she left us, and I was glad to allow my own expression to fall back into its normal lines.

"Can you not walk or something?" I asked abruptly, once I realised what had been the only important statement in her ramble.

"No," he answered calmly. "I haven't been able to walk for a year. Haven't you noticed that I can barely move?"

"How am I supposed to notice?" I snapped, feeling unnaturally embarrassed. "Everyone just lays around all damn day anyway."

"Yes, but I can't even shift or anything," he said solemnly, and whatever I had to say next was utterly forgotten as his eyes bore into mine.

I finally moved my gaze to his position, and now that he mentioned it, the fact that he laid in the centre of the bed on his back and only ever shifted his head or his arms became apparent. I wondered what he could have done to make himself like that.

I stood up and walked the few feet to him. "So what'd you do?" I asked. "Seriously — it must have been something fucking terrible."

"Oh, I don't think you want to hear," he commented, turning his face from me. "After all, you always hated me at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"There's nothing better to do," I explained lamely, knowing that wasn't truly the reason.

"Well it isn't really a nothing-better-to-do type of story." His voice was still dry, but firm. I knew he wouldn't budge.

"Someday you'll tell me?"

"No promises."

---

"Why doesn't your mother ever come to visit you? Weren't you her precious only child?"

"Yes, I am. But I refuse to let this bloody hospital tell her that I'm in here. She thinks I'm taking a sudden trip."

"What's she like?" he asked.

"Shallow, rich, very Slytherin. She kills off her husbands so that she can get their money, you know. It's a thriving business. Before I went to Hogwarts, she spoiled me, making me about the most arrogant kid in the world… Yeah, it was a good life. There was nothing I didn't have." I smiled bitterly. It had been so nice to be a kid like that — there weren't any problems at all. I just had to live the way I wanted to. Once I got to Hogwarts, everything was different; once I got there, my life wasn't my own anymore. She taught me that if I wanted to get ahead, I had to do what other people wanted me to. She taught me that it was the only way to be successful.

"Which one of her husbands was your father?"

"None of them. Mother said that my father was a poor man, and the only one of them she ever actually loved." I rolled my eyes, thinking of my mother. She was such a flighty woman. "She refused to marry him, though. She said she just wanted to have a child. I have no idea who he is or anything about him, other than that she really did love him."

"It's nice, that he's the one who's your father, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed. No matter what I said about my mother, she really was an amusing person.

"What about your childhood, Nott?"

"My first memory is seeing my mother die." The tone of his voice didn't change. It was just as casual. "She was sick. My mother was wonderful, and I think it's good she died when she did… My father's a bastard." His eyes had a faraway appearance as he stared at the ceiling. "He had to raise me on his own, which meant that he basically left me to fend for myself. But it's okay — it made me realise that I didn't want his life. I could see that his being a Death Eater meant that his life belonged to someone else, but I never wanted that. I wanted my life to be my own."

"We're different, aren't we?" I asked lightly.

He didn't say anything, but just looked at me. After a long pause, he answered, "If you say so."

I didn't know what he meant at the time.

---

"So what have you done since we got out of Hogwarts, Nott?" I asked the next day.

He rolled his eyes and gestured with one hand to his body. "This."

"When did it happen?"

"Didn't I say you weren't ready to hear that story?"

I said nothing in response, and after a long pause he asked, "So why did you hate me so much at Hogwarts?"

"Because you annoyed me," I answered bluntly, unwilling to make any excuses when he wasn't even ready to tell me why the hell he was so hurt.

"Because…?" he prompted.

"Because you were always such a loner. I always thought you were such an arrogant bastard, just being yourself off in a damn corner somewhere. I mean, were you just too retarded to get it? In Slytherin, not even _trying_ to fit in is dangerous, but for some reason no one even cared about you."

"Except you," he added lightly.

"You're damn right I did — someone needed to see that you deserved to be hated for the way you acted. It was like you thought that you didn't even have to follow the rules or anything. Someone needed to teach you that if you want to survive, you have to follow the rules."

His face didn't change from its neutral appearance: it never did. Instead he just commented, "Well, I survived, didn't I?"

"Not too well, apparently."

"I think you're just angry because I got to be my own person and you never did."

I glared at him, but he just laid there; I felt bad for being a jerk to him when he looked like he was running on borrowed time. "Maybe I never was my own person, but I got along well enough. Just because I kissed up to other people didn't make me someone like Malfoy, who never knew what the hell was going on."

"I think you're lying. I think it was worse than you say."

"Sorry — I forgot that you were all-knowing."

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, it must have been pretty bad, considering you tried to off yourself."

I froze. How the hell did he know that? I hadn't told anyone about it, and it wasn't like the Healers were allowed to tell him. How could he possibly know about that? It wasn't exactly something I wanted spread around — least of all to Nott.

"It's the most obvious thing in the world," he stated, interrupting my angry thoughts. I turned my glare to him again, this time not feeling at all guilty that I was being mean. He had probably deserved whatever had happened to him. "After all," he continued, "most people don't come to St Mungo's in nearly perfect health, right? It's obvious that you tried and failed to kill yourself."

"Yeah, I tried to do myself in, but it was obviously a bloody failure," I snapped, still pissed at him. "I wish I managed to do it right, because I wouldn't have to be here right now."

"If you'd really wanted to die, you'd have done a better job."

I said nothing, but stared pointedly to the other side of the long, white room. The bed on the other side of me was vacant, and the one past that had a curtain around it. There were only four beds in the room.

"How'd you try to do it?" he asked.

"Why should I tell you?" I snapped, facing him again. "You won't tell me why you're like that."

"I just thought that you might want to talk. After all, I doubt you're talking to any of the shrinks that they send in here."

"If I wanted to talk, it sure as hell wouldn't be to you," I answered, my voice icy. But even as I said it, I knew I would tell him, so without even a pause I launched into the story, looking only at the ceiling — never his eyes — as I spoke.

---

Throughout my life I had done what everyone told me. I hated every moment, but I knew that if I wanted to get ahead in life and succeed the way I wanted to, all I had to do was be something like a slave to them. I was the perfect student to my teachers, and I mirrored Draco's personality perfectly during my time at Hogwarts, knowing that as long as I did, I could be one of the best.

That was why Nott annoyed me so much. He never felt the need to change himself to fit in. And he never did fit in, but he never seemed out of place, either. It was like he could make his own world, while I could barely even fit into everyone else's. We were both the outcasts, but I was so desperate while he was so untroubled.

I just thought that if I killed myself, it might show them. Because they never could have expected that from me. For once I would be different, and that thought alone was intoxicating.

I was rich, a pureblood, and well-respected. Even after the Dark Lord lost the Final Battle, very little changed. My life was still perfect; it was too perfect; I hated it — hated every second of it.

With a laugh one day, I made up my mind to kill myself a Muggle way. I was purely amused by the thought. There was absolutely no fear or happiness. It was a dry indifference.

I jumped off of a building, and the fall was perfect. The rush made me feel free for the first time in my life, and when I hit solid ground, I blacked out immediately; my last thought was that I had finally managed to do something unexpected. My suicide had made me my own person.

But my next memory was waking up to pain, with someone forcing a disgusting-tasting potion down my throat, which immediately created an even more searing pain in my body; but this time it was the pain of healing, not of destruction.

I flailed around, wanting the pain to stop, not because I couldn't handle it, but because this hadn't been part of the plan. Hadn't I asked for death? I didn't want to heal — I wanted to _die_. What would an _attempted_ suicide prove to anyone? That I was too much of a failure to even be able to kill myself properly?

---

"And next thing I knew, I was totally healed, but they forced me to stay here anyway, sending in shrinks all the time. Well, I'm not as screwed up as they think I am, and I don't want to be here. I don't see what's so bad about trying to kill myself — it's _my_ life to throw away."

Nott, who had been completely silent throughout the entire story, remained that way for quite a while after I stopped speaking. I finally looked at him, and he was gazing at me steadily from his bed. I didn't know why his grey-green eyes looked so serious, and why he said nothing. As always, he pissed me off.

"Would you do it again if they let you out?"

I couldn't say yes, even though we both knew it was the answer. "Well, I sure as hell would find a more sure-fire way of doing it," I clarified.

He rolled his eyes. "I guess that's why they aren't letting you out."

"That's all you have to say?" I snapped.

He paused, and looked at me again. Slowly, he started speaking, "I can understand why you did it, but I think your problem is that you need to be your own person… which you've probably already figured out."

"Don't you recall me saying that's why I decided to launch myself off that building?"

"Yeah, but I don't think you see that finding yourself is something you can find anywhere. It isn't something that you have to travel for or anything. And it definitely isn't something you find jumping off a few stories, either."

"You're saying I can find it right here, in this bloody hospital bed, wasting my life every day talking to you?"

"Exactly." For the first time, the smallest smile came over his face. I lost my train of thought as I stared at him, for some reason shocked at the change. He looked so much more alive when he smiled; every moment before that he had looked like death. Then his eyes locked with mine, and the happiness faded from his face. Then he looked surprised, and after that — also for the first time — he looked angry. That change was startling as well, and I couldn't say anything. "I'm going to sleep," he said abruptly, turning his face from mine; I had a feeling that if he had been able to, he would have turned his entire body away.

"Nott…?"

God, I could never figure this damn bastard out.

---

I never realised how much I had grown to not hate talking to him over the past few days. It wasn't until he became pointedly silent that I grew more and more restless and angry. Instead of the usual smooth and happy act I played with the Healers or any of the staff, I found my temper short all the time. No matter how many conversations I tried to start with him, he kept to monosyllables. It was driving me up the fucking wall.

I wandered around the hospital, but that did nothing. If possible, it made me even angrier to discover that nothing was more interesting than talking to Nott. I didn't like that I had grown to depend on him. For years I had been dependent on everyone. Hadn't he and I agreed that I needed to become my own person? Well, how the hell was that going to happen when — though it would have been the last thing I ever would have admitted to myself — I had grown to depend on _him_.

God damn it — I needed him and that pissed the hell out of me.

"Mr Zabini?" a Healer asked, touching my shoulder.

I turned to stare at him, and didn't even care that I was and looked pissed.

"Healer Darris," I spat by way of a greeting.

"You don't look well," he commented, his voice concerned — far too concerned.

"No shit." Again I made no effort to be polite.

"What happened?"

I looked around the floor, and no one was there. I had been wandering a long time, hadn't I? Still, this ward was the one with all the psycho people, so they were probably locked up somewhere.

"Why aren't I here?" I asked abruptly.

"E-excuse me?" he sputtered. He was probably expecting a much more volatile response.

"In this ward? I'm here because I'm a whackjob too, right? So shouldn't I be here?"

He straightened his glasses and gazed at me seriously. "We put you with Theodore Nott because the two of you were at school together. We thought that he would be able to help you heal emotionally and that you could keep his remaining time happy—"

"_Remaining time?"_ I exclaimed.

"Well, surely he's told you what happened to him. His father cursing him during the Final Battle, and the fact that he lived through what should have been a fatal experience. He's just getting worse — there is no cure for him. He has about a month longer to—"

As soon as I got my thoughts back to me, I gasped sharply, feeling physical pain. I couldn't say a word to the Healer, but just turned completely around and sprinted away. I opened the door to our room (which had since been vacated by that annoying curtain bloke) and stopped short as soon as I took a step inside. He looked up at me calmly.

That was what broke me. His gaze that was so natural. I never could have guessed that he was so close to dying. I walked the few steps to his bedside and fell to my knees.

"Someone told you, didn't they?" he sighed, looking away.

"Don't you fucking dare to do that!" I snapped.

His eyes snapped back to mine at the intensity of my reaction. "What?"

"Stop acting so natural — stop acting like I shouldn't care. I do, you prick!"

"You weren't supposed to," he answered, his voice still the same aggravating tone. "I knew this would happen. Especially that day — the way you looked at me. I knew it — _I knew you'd fall in love with me.…_ And now what? Now you probably know I'm going to die soon, and God even knows what you'll do."

"So what if I'm in love with you?" I snapped. For some reason it didn't feel like a big deal at all; rather, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Even during Hogwarts, hadn't I loved him then, too? Hadn't I always been in love with him without realising it, because he was the exact person I wanted to be? And wasn't it just like him to bring it up so abruptly? He always the one to say exactly what he needed to.

He reached one of his hands up, wincing a little. His pale fingers brushed against my face, and I took his hand in my own dark one. We were always opposites. "You weren't supposed to fall in love with me. Not when you have all this life left, while I'm — I'm like this."

I looked into his face steadily, not finding any pain there. "Nott, what happened? Just tell me the damn story."

"You really want to hear it?" he asked calmly.

"I need to, you retard."

"You know how most of the Slytherins left during the Final Battle, right?" I nodded. I had run right out of that place the moment they offered. "Well, I came back. I wanted to help get rid of Voldemort." I flinched a little at the name, and his fingers tightened the smallest bit on mine; it was still a child's grip because he was so weak. "On the way, I intercepted my father, and he knew what I was doing. He cursed me with some spell that no one can identify. All I know is that it hurt like hell — worse than the Cruciatus Curse, because that's all in your mind, right? This was physical. I could feel it tearing me apart, so I did the only thing I could think of. I killed my father to end the curse, and the next thing I knew, I ended up here.

"They ran all sorts of tests, but don't know what the spell is or how to fix it. I just get worse all the time, and I can't last much longer. It gets worse and worse every day, Blaise. And it's getting worse faster." He seemed like he was out of breath. His hand was ice-cold. "I'm going to die soon."

"No," I snapped. "I'm not going to let you die, Nott — you just sure as hell better get that damn idea out of your fu—"

He smiled again, and I stopped speaking immediately.

"Please?" I asked, feeling like everything was getting dark. Why did he have to die, when he was the only person I had ever felt comfortable with? Could I really go every day without him? Could I live that life now that I knew what could have been?

"Blaise, dying isn't that bad. But it really is worse now, because I know you won't be there—"

"Try and stop me. I'll just kill myself, and do it right this time. I promise that I'll be there—"

"_No!"_ he gasped, lurching forwards. He groaned in pain, and fell back to the bed.

"Nott…!"

"Promise me you won't do that," he said, his voice begging. "You have to promise me right now that you won't kill yourself. Not now that you've finally found yourself."

"But I didn't find myself — I found you."

Another half-smile. A shake of his head. "You finally know who you are, don't you?"

I thought of being a follower again, and the thought made me sick. I couldn't ever be the same person who'd jumped off that building. Something in me had changed.

"Blaise, I can't live anymore, but you can live for me, can't you? Please, just live your life the way you should have all along. Prove everyone wrong not by trying to kill yourself but by being yourself — truly yourself. Promise me you will."

"I will," I answered solemnly. "I never thought the Nott I hated would be the one to help me find myself." I laughed hollowly. With the hand that wasn't holding his, I pushed a strand of hair out of his face.

"I always knew you weren't like them." He smiled again, but this time it was a full-out grin. I couldn't help but smile at the same time, even though I was also endlessly sad.

"I guess you're the only one who ever believed in me, Nott… Hey, by the way, did you ask them to put me here?"

He laughed too. "Yeah, I did. Because I was in love with you since third year."

"What happened then?" I asked softly, leaning towards him.

"You were talking to Draco and the rest of them, and when you turned away, I got a full view of you, and you just rolled your eyes and made the worst face. I knew that it was because you were tired of acting around them. When I saw your face, that was when I knew we were both different from the rest — and that we were one and the same."

I smiled, and it felt so peaceful.

---

"Can you do something for me, Blaise?" he asked two weeks later. Now there was a curtain around _his_ bed, because he was weakening rapidly. Everyone knew he would die soon.

Well, damn them all. Just damn everyone! Every single one of those fucking idiots deserved to die before Theodore Nott did. But he was the one they said had days or maybe even mere hours to live, while they were all in perfect health. Even I was! Couldn't he have my health — he deserved to live more than I did.

"Anything," I offered.

"Can you call me my first name?" His voice was breathless, and he looked paler than ever. Now even turning his head caused him to wince.

"Theodore…?" The name sounded strange to me, since even in my thoughts I thought of him as 'Nott'.

He shook his head slowly, stopping abruptly with a gasp. He closed his eyes in pain. My heart stopped; every moment I thought he might die.

"Theo?" I said desperately, putting one of my hands on his face that was far too hot while the rest of him was too cold.

"Perfect." After a long pause he spoke again. "Blaise, could you… kiss me?"

I smiled shakily. Theo knew it was today, didn't he? He could sense it, while the Healers were giving him more time. He knew he had lost all of his borrowed time.

I leaned over him, carefully pressing my lips to his, so softly that we barely touched, but enough to feel their coldness. The lips connected to mine formed a slow smile.

I pulled away again, touching his hair softly. There was a strange sensation in my eyes, and with bitterness, I laughed hollowly. "This is the first time I can ever remember crying," I told him.

He reached his hand forward slowly. His face worked furiously to hide his pain from me. One of his fingers touched my face so softly I could barely feel it — but it probably took all his strength. He touched my tear, and wiped it away.

"I love you, Blaise."

"Damn it, Theo — I love you, too."

"I know." He smiled softly again. He never said anything else to me.

He died later that day, with that same peaceful half-smile on his face.

---

I kept my promise to Theodore Nott. I lived every moment the way I wanted to. I had always acted like everyone expected, but after that I became my own person. I stopped wanting to kill myself, and instead had a different desire — to be someone _he_ would have been proud of.

He freed me; he was the one who showed me exactly who I could be. He taught me how to live, when before I had merely existed. He was the one who showed me the difference.

Theo was my only love — and my unexpected saviour


End file.
